This Isn't Another Fairytale
by J Klau
Summary: The life of Alissa Lee, if it wasn't messed up. It'd be miracle as to why. Her life isn't perfect, or anything close. She'll let you in like no other has ever been. Life isn't a fairytale for her, not even close.
1. This isn't another fairytale

Hi, I know this is a weird way to start everything off. But, oh well. It's how I'm starting it off. My name's Ali. Okay, no it's not. But, it's what I'm use to. I'm actually Alissa. Alissa Lee. No, I'm not Chinese. People should stop asking me that. I get this is probably a horrible beginning, but it's MY Beginning, and I think it works for me. It works very well for me. So, lets go on with my life, shall we? Don't answer, we're going on either way.

I'm Alissa Lee, 15, from Mississippi, but… that changed when I turned three. I live in Madison, WI. Now. It's cool here. Literally, I'm fucking freezing during the winter year. Mississippi never snowed like it does here. And yeah, I remember this. I think I had photographic memory when I was a kid. I'm special like that.

I'm Alissa Lee, 15, Born in Mississippi, living in Wisconsin currently, and I'm single. No, it's not by choice. It's forced upon me by my parents. I honestly don't blame them though. If you had this shitty thing you call a life, your parents would ban you from dating until you get your shit straight. But, I'm 15 they can't expect me to STAY single the whole time. So, my boyfriend's in the closet. No, he's not gay. And I don't have a problem with gay people either, don't get me wrong. But, he's kinda hidden away. Hidden away so I don't get my ass beat by my parents. Typical teenage move, right? Yeah, no.

I'm Alissa Lee, 15, born in Mississippi, living in Wisconsin, I'm single, I have a boyfriend in hiding, and I'm currently in Therapy. Why am I in therapy? Well…lets say; I'm writing this to tell you my story. My story? The story of how I fucked up over and over again, and how I'm surprised people are still with my through this whole entire thing. I would have expected people to leave, be done with me. But…they're still here. They never left me, and I don't think they ever will, but I'm preparing myself for when they do leave. Horrible, isn't it? Yeah, I'm not found of getting hurt. No one is, but…I do shit when I get hurt.

What shit do I do when I get hurt?

Well…that's why you're reading this, you wanna know every ounce of what I do, the hell I went through, the hell I'm STILL going through, and you wanna know my tricks to hiding it, right? Right. Well, this isn't going to be one of those happily-ever-after stories. NONE of this will be a happy ending. Don't like the reality of this story? Then stop reading it, because this won't be the right story for you. Honestly, this won't be the right story for anyone, but if you wanna go through my nightmare of a life with me, then knock yourself out, and keep reading. I'm not going to tell you what the moral of this story is, because there is no moral, expect life's a fucking bitch. I want it to be a whore so we can all go one with it so easily. But, then again everyone wants life to be a whore. NO ONE wants to deal with life.

Yeah, well guess what. I'm dealing with life. I'm dealing with life pretty fucking hard. Life isn't a fairytale, those stories we were read as children, everything everyone told us; it's fucking fake. Cinderella partied and got her glass slipper given back to her, and married Prince Charming. Guess what, kids. Prince Charming isn't in here, he's not in this story. Sorry to burst your bubble, but he's not real, either. There's one real Disney story. And that's Snow White. Snow White slept with a TON of men, and guess what. She got poisoned by an Apple (Note: Don't eat Fruit,) and married Prince Charming, leaving every guy she ever slept with behind. THAT'S life for you. NOT every other Disney story.

No, I'm not trying to make Snow White seem like a whore, or Cinderella a fake bitch. But, they both kinda are in a way. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE Disney stories, but I don't like people being told lies. I give the blunt truth, THAT'S the blunt truth. Simple as that. I'm obviously a troubled child, I get that. Wanna know WHY I'm a troubled child? Go ahead, read on. Because right now, I'm letting you in like no one has ever been. You're seeing the person I don't allow a single soul to see. And if you judge me for my past, present, or future, go ahead. I can careless what a stranger thinks of me.

If you wanna know the truth to life, and my life, then read along. Because I'll give you the truth like no other. Because this isn't another fairytale.

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AN: I gave up on the other stories, sorry. But, I know I'm going through with this one. Happy 2011, enjoy. [:


	2. This is only the Beginning

Chapter 2 - This is only the Beginning

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"Alissa, can you tell me why you're here?" The woman in a tan jacket, with a dark shirt under it. Her pants the same color. Her hair made her look like he still belonged in the 80's. Sad, she'd look pretty with flat hair. She was about 53ish. I wouldn't guess higher, but I probably wouldn't guess any lower, either.

"Alissa?" She asked once more, like she honestly expect me to answer.

"Hm?" I mumbled, pulled my knee to my chest.

I was sitting on a big fluffy couch with dark green pillows on them. The couch matched her carpet, and her clothes color. Nice. The colors made me sick, but it's nice to know she loved matching. I know more about this chick than she knows about me, and I haven't even spoke one word.

"Why are you here?" She questioned.

Why am I here? I can answer that easily.

"Parents made me come, they woke me up, I got ready, and they drove me here. They're in the waiting room if you wanna see the reason I'm here." I said in a snaky tone, that probably pissed her off. And maybe even made her wanna jump out of her chair to choke me half to death. Not like anyone would complain.

I sat in silence for a moment, looking around her room. Her walls color matched her carpet, couch, jacket, and pants. It made me sick. How can she handle this?

"Well she's the sane one." A voice in my head mumbled.

Awh, I'm hearing voices now. Don't I feel fucking special.

Her room had a desk in the corner, it looked cool. A few plants, two big ole' fluffy chairs, and this couch. If I could steal a couch, this one would be it. Dear God, I'm in love with a couch. Can my life get anymore fucked up? I mentally sighed.

"Alissa, we can either argue, or we can get to the honest reason you're here." She told me.

How in God's right mind can this women still want me here.

Oh, her name's Debra. Thought that'd be important.

"Fine." I said. "I've had depression since I was, oh…six. I'm 15 now, you do the math. I hate my life, my sister's are whore who hate me, too. My brother's don't talk to me, I did drugs, I'm sober now. So don't your panties in a knot. It's all good." Her mouth opened slightly to comment. I cut her off. "Don't comment. You wanted to know, I'm telling you. I did drugs when I was 11, and stopped when I was 12. I'm fine now. My sister's Abandoned me when I was seven, came back for a year, and did it again. This went on till I was 10. I saw one of my sisters when I was 12, she had my Niece. Skyler. Saw her twice after that, then we stopped talking. Saw her at my brothers graduation for 5 minutes. Last time I saw her. I think that's it." I finished, and stared at her with a blank expression.

Her jaw was to the ground. Damn, overreacting much? She wanted to know, I told her. Don't ask if you don't wanna know, fuck.

Her pen fell out of her hands, and she completely ignored it. Like nothing happened. She just stared at me with her mouth gaping open. Way to make me feel like an outcast.

"I-I-I….I…Uhm…I…Erm…Well then…Uhm…I think…Uhm." She stuttered, causing me to stand up, grabbing my bag, slinging it over my shoulder.

"You obviously can't help me. Thanks anyways." With that, I walked to the door, leaving the color coordinated room, that made me feel like SHE should be the one in a straightjacket, not me. And no, I'm not in a straightjacket, so stop being stupid and thinking I'm in a God damn straightjacket. I don't need to deal with ignorance from you people because I made a comment. It's called a joke, so stick it in your juice box, suck it, and get use to it.

Sugar spice and everything nice, right? Yeah, you obviously haven't met my parents. Good luck dealing with them.

"Alissa!" My mother cooed, even though it was practically a shrieking tone. I'll call it a coo for your sake.

"Yeah?" I said glancing up at her.

My family was tall, I was the smallest next to my 5-year-old baby sister. (Don't be shocked that a 5-year-old is shorter than me. If you are…then just… just stop reading, because it won't get any better.)

"How was it?" My mother squeaked almost giddy. On a scale of one to ten, she was at least a good 20.

I simply shrugged. "Fine. I just wanna get out of here." I mumbled, walking out in the winter wonderland of snow, and got into the car waiting for my parents.

I waited for around a good 30 minutes until I could happily get the fuck out of that car, let alone it was only to walk into a McDonald's because my dad had to pee, it was better than sitting in that hell-hole of a care being questioned on every ounce of shit that happened in that disgusting excuse of a room. I know this isn't the Olden days, or whatever but if my parents knew what the fuck happened in that room, my dad would bring out a belt, a belt with spikes to be exact, and beat me senseless. No, my parents aren't abusive. Unless you count the one time my dad took a box to me, but…It was once, so I'm not even gonna dwell on that. Not worth wasting my time on.

Once I got back into the car I felt my hip vibrate, which scared the living shit outta me. But, seconds later my phone started blaring 'Peacock' by Katy Perry, which sent me into a hysteria of giggles. I slid down in the seat so I could reach into my jean pocket and grab out the phone. I pulled it out ninja style, and slid it open.

_1 new text_

'Thank you, Mr. phone.' I thought to myself, before opening the text.

_From: Sam._

_Hey babe. :]_

I rolled my eyes. This guy needs to leave me the fuck alone.

_Go away. My phone doesn't enjoy being raped, especially when you're giving it your diseases._

I clicked 'Send' and put my phone back into pocket.

Sam. I. Fucking. Hate. Him. No, he's not my hidden away boyfriend that you all probably think is gay, because I said he was in the closet. Either way, Sam's the biggest asshole alive. 'Nuff said.

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AN: :D I feel happy writing this. Sorry, Miss Lee is a bitch…xD


	3. We're not even half way through

Chapter 3 - We're not even half way through

In a two week time vole nothings changed, it's all the same fucked up story you guys are so giddy to read, for whatever possessed reason. I write this from the same place I always do, even though you have no idea where that is either. You guys entered this story to some sweet, innocent Alissa Lee from Mississippi. Guess what. You guys got a false advertisement, and it's the best damn false advertisement out there. So real, isn't it? Yeah, I've been working on it since I was eight. Years and years of practice make perfect. Trust me, I would know, they do.

In this two week time vole, my therapist has been blowing up my parents phone bugging them to have me come back. No matter what they say, I'm not going back, they can't force me to come back. They're not my owners, I'm not a fucking dog. They can't tell me to come, and expect me to listen. I don't give a flying fuck if they're my parents or not, they can't make me obey them. I'm not gonna let them try to train me, that will NEVER happen. I'd rather claw my eyes out slowly, than have they take me back.

In this two week time vole, that guy that texted him, Sam, yeah he's still an epic douche, and I wanna shoot him. Trust me, if you knew him, you'd agree. He's the biggest whore I've ever met, and my school is full of whores. He's just the guy version, and tops all the chicks whoreyness. Yes, that's even possible, and yeah Madison is flying with whores left and right. Not that surprising, just come here for a weekend, you'll see it. But, don't come during winter, because that'd be retarded, but even in winter, yeah the whores are still claiming their territory. THAT'S surprising. In negative 50 degree weather, whores are in short-shorts, and a bra. That's it. And apparently, people don't give a shit if we go to school dressed like that, oh how it makes me miss Kindergarten.

Anyways, back to the here and now. I still have some wicked mental issues, but obviously that's a given, especially in my family.

Hm…my family. Another interesting topic, lets see we have a mother. MY mother. A complete suck up, that is an epic bitch, but can pull off a killer sweet, goodie-two-shoes act, and have EVERYONE putty in her hands within seconds. Yeah, she's a fake bitch. But, you'll probably LOVE her because you don't live with the bitch. Moving on. We have a father. MY father. An asshole, who finished training in the womb, and takes his crappy, half-ass life on others no matter what they do or who they are. Although he loves babies because they can't talk, and argue with him, he fucking hates teenagers. And in a family of six, the fifth kid gets the worse of the family, because they're the runt. Guess what, in this family I'M the runt. It's jacked-up. You can say we don't have a great relationship.

Anyways, moving on to siblings. I have five. Six if you include me. We have…Ashley, she's 23 and married to Paul. Then Heather, she's 21, married to Daniel, and has a baby. Her name is Skyler. Then we have my brothers. Kyle is 19, and dating Hilary. And Connor who is 16, and loves keeping to himself. Then we have the baby Tianna. She's five, and a pain. In. My. ASS.

I don't talk to my oldest sisters, and a relationship with my brothers aren't even there. If they are, I can't see one. And with my little sister, it's a wishy-washy relationship. Kinda annoying. I try to make the best of it, even though I'd rather not. But, gotta try something. I'll try this.

Moving on; No need to complain about my family, they're not even the main point of this whole thing, even though they think they are. I'd deny that, but they are parts of it, parts they'll never know.

My family's currently keeping me from dating because they highly believe that guys who dump me, or 'break my heart' are the reasons for trying to kill myself…They are so far off, it's not even funny. No one tends to know the real reasoning behind me trying to kill myself, but you guys will know, I tried-

Wait…I never mentioned that did I? …Lets keep it that way.


End file.
